Duck hunting

So occasionally, I hunt. I feel like I need to say this in a whisper though, as guns and killing animals isn’t always stuff people around here like to hear about. As much as I appreciate the liberal vibes of our dear city, I still feel like there is stigma attached with doing what I occasionally do. I tend to keep it on the DL even though I want to shout from the rooftops that I am a responsible gun owner and always eat what I catch/dig/shoot. So please don’t judge 🙂

The 4am wake up call is probably my least favorite thing about hunting, but I admit there’s this pure sense of calm seeing the sun rise quietly over a corn field. It seems like these days we are out in nature less and less and trudging through the fields and getting knee deep in mud grounds me a bit. It’s an emotional, deep feeling being out there…waiting, watching. I find that I’m way more in tune with my surroundings after a hunt. For the next week, my senses are magnified x10 – it’s kind of a super natural feeling.

When you do take that animal’s life, it’s a powerful, powerful experience. Excitement and sadness hit you all at once. You are thrilled that your practice has paid off but mourn the loss of life. It’s something that I internally debate all of the time. I hate seeing an animal suffer right in front of me but know that deep down, that’s the right thing to do – to do it myself. If I choose to eat this way, I need to be part of the process as much as I can. So I do. I roll up my sleeves, get my hands dirty and field dress those ducks. All in a days work.

The VIP duck blind.

The wait.

I think I need to work on my accuracy.

Stormy putting in work! Good dog.

Dinner for days.

Hi there. I’m Leslie. Blogger, crafter, clam digger, urban farmer, event planner and mom to Baby O. Living the good life up here in the great PNW! #upperleft